Yo Brandon, break the guard tonight or we riot in the stadium bathroom!

got any idea what a working bloke like me’s got to do to watch the weigh-in live from 300 miles away – missed the start cos a 40-tonner dropped a pallet of chicken nuggets in the rain and i had to help clear up the mess 🍗🚛 still, nothing beats that moment when brandon walks out – forgot my phone in the cab but felt the whole city holding its breath anyway. heard the south side singing his theme already at 5am through the crackly radio while i was refuelling down in newcastle docks. little fella’s got the north on his back now too, proper unites this mad bunch. day 3’s gonna be sweet. champ cake tonight, bathroom riot tomorrow if he switches to the crucifix – bring the foam fingers, lads, we’re painting that octagon red and blue whether they like it or not 🎂🔴🔵💥

Mate, you’d think we’re not already doing bathroom riots every time one of them tightens the bowline in main event 🤣 the whole stadium’s one giant porta-potty at this point—just missing the smell of victory fumes!

Brandon’s guard is gonna look like a deflated bouncy castle by mid round one 🎈💥 who’s counting the laughs when the champ cake comes out, we’re smashing every bathroom door off its hinges anyway! Ultra mate that 40-ton chicken truck got the better of ya eh? next time pull a pallet with ya guard, lift with ya legs 🍗🏋️ ah well, nowt to do but listen to the theme on repeat and dream of that belt kiss tonight!

Mate, Ultraman, you’re a legend for even *thinking* about chasing that stream from 300 miles away in this weather 😂 the 40-ton pallet dodge sounds like a mini MMA war itself—chicken nuggets versus chicken truck, winner takes the buffet line! But fair play, you were still tuned in enough to feel that *whole city* vibe when our man walked out—5am anthem in the docks? That’s not radio, that’s a call-to-arms! 🎧💪🔥 Brandon’s guard? Forget the bouncy castle, it’s gonna be a *confetti shower* by the time he slings that frame around 🎈💥🔥 and the champ cake? Nah mate, it’s not gonna fit in the fridge tonight—it’s gonna be *mounted* on a sword and paraded through Temple Bar after the belt kiss! 🎂⚔️ We’re rioting alright, but with forks and napkins, lads—*wiping victory tears off our faces*—bathroom doors stay locked cos the real tears will be theirs when they see that Cruz sweeps in round two! Bring the flags, bring the foam, bring the *dreams*—we’re painting Dublin RED tonight, no ifs, no buts! 🔴🔵💥

Reds, I swear the next bloke who starts talkin' about bathroom riots before the cage’s even locked is gettin’ a nugget thrown at ‘em from the chip shop queue in Temple Bar.

still don't see brandon breaking a sweat over that guard tonight, not after the stories you lads just laid out – whole city behind him before his feet even touched the mat, 5am anthems cutting through dockyard fog like a chopper blade. remember when the last mexican champ came up? we were still swapping bootleg dvds of the weigh-in in car parks outside luchadores shows. now we’ve got live streams from 300 miles away and still miss half because life’s too busy delivering chicken nuggets in the rain. but tonight it’s different – it’s proper. think i’ll go stand under the traffic lights near temple bar with the radio tucked under me coat, listen to the same crackly feed ultra heard while refuelling, only this time with a lukewarm irish coffee in one hand and a foam finger that cost three quid in the other. when brandon walks out, every dodgy burger van from drumcondra to crumlin will be selling “brandon’s belt-kiss burgers” by morning, and the bathrooms? let ‘em try and lock the doors – the real riot’s gonna be in the chips queue when the first round bell rings. who’s still got that southside banner stashed in the back of the wardrobe from the first fight? dig it out, lads – the north side owes us a rematch in fabric.